"Jet."

"I love you, Flick. I love you so f.u.c.king much."

I felt her walls start to convulse and knew she was close. My hips took on a will of their own as I increased my pace, thrusting into her hard and fast. My b.a.l.l.s tightened and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before I exploded inside of her. I tried to hold back, but she felt so d.a.m.n good. The first shot of my release hit her walls at the exact moment she screamed my name.

"Jet!"

"f.u.c.k. Ah, f.u.c.k." I clenched my jaw as I emptied into her, my back arching so hard I was sure my spine would snap if my release didn't end soon. It went on and on, her clenching p.u.s.s.y only making it that much better. Nothing compared to this.

Nothing.

Time held no meaning as I slowly became aware of my surroundings. I was lying on top of Flick, probably crushing her, but she didn't seem to mind as she stroked her fingers of one hand through my hair while tracing little hearts on my back with the other. I was drenched in sweat and it mixed with her own. The bar smelled like s.e.x mixed with sweet-scented candles. It was potent enough to get high off of.

Her fingers suddenly stopped tracing those little hearts that felt so good on my back. Not liking the loss, I lifted my head. Her eyes looked vacant, as if she were having deep thoughts. "What are you thinking about?" I asked curiously.

Dark lashes fluttered and she shook her head as if to get rid of the daze she had been in. "I was just thinking that I'm going to miss this when you finally get tired of me again."

Chapter Sixteen.

Felicity If I was surprised that Jet had called to ask me out, it was nothing compared to how I felt when I walked into the empty bar with him. Jet Hannigan didn't do romantic things. Ever. So I was blown away when I stepped through the doors with him and saw the...romantic fairy tale was as close as I could come to call what I'd found.

Heart balloons were everywhere, hanging from long, curled ribbons in white and pink. The ribbons matched the roses in various containers from actual vases to longneck beer bottles. Then there were the candles, hundreds and hundreds of them, casting the kind of glow over the place that screamed "I'm going to make love to you...on the floor surrounded by soft pillows in the middle of a d.a.m.n heart made out of rose petals."

It was the thing romantic dreams were made of, something I never would have expected Jet to do, especially not for me. Yet he had, and he'd looked so adorably shy about the whole thing. He'd actually been worried I hadn't liked it and that had touched my heart in a way I'd long given up hope of Jet actually ever doing.

As he'd fed me my favorite meal-yes, fed me, like I was something precious to him-I'd fallen even deeper for him. I didn't even think it was possible to love him more than I already did, but he'd proved me wrong.

So d.a.m.n wrong.

Our lovemaking had been explosive. I'd reached new heights during that quick, crazy coming together than I'd ever done before. It had scared the h.e.l.l out of me even as I'd savored every second of it. But as I'd come down from the high and the afterglow of it had started to fade, I'd gotten lost in the past, and all I could think was how was I going to survive it when he got bored with me this time around?

Honestly, I didn't think I would. Running away wouldn't be an option this time because I would be too shattered. To broken. There would be no way to hide from the pain except to end it all.

I didn't tell him that part, though. No use in putting that kind of pressure on him.

Now Jet's face went pale, then gray, but just as quickly turned dark with anger. "Have you not heard anything I've said to you over the last four weeks, Flick?"

My brows lifted, confused. "What have you been saying?"

He pulled back, not seeming to care that he was naked from the waist down or that his d.i.c.k was covered in a mixture of both our releases. He sat back on his calves and glared down at me. "I love you, Flick. I've loved you for so d.a.m.n long I can't remember a time when I didn't love you."

I sat up and pulled one of the pillows onto my lap to hide my nakedness from him. I felt more vulnerable right then than I'd ever felt before. It was weird, feeling so exposed when anger was already starting to build in my chest. "Are you saying you loved me two years ago?" No way. I couldn't believe that.

Could I?

No.

No.

But... No.

"Of course I did," he exploded. "I loved you so much that I went insane when Westcliffe beat you. I thought for sure he'd killed you and all I could think about was killing him with my bare hands. I wanted to end him and then join you if you were gone."

I couldn't go down that path, the one where he would have 'joined' me if I had actually died. Just the thought of Jet dead hurt too much, so I ignored it. "You loved me," I repeated, shaking my head in disbelief, "but you still tore my heart out by making me feel like the one thing you knew I never wanted to become. My mother." I practically spat the last word out and got angrily to my feet, searching for the clothes he'd stripped me of in our desperate need to become one. "Can you understand why I'm skeptical of you not getting bored with me this time around? You say you loved me then but you tossed my love back in my face when you didn't want me anymore, and you'll do the same thing again. It's just a matter of time before you get bored with me, Jet."

I found my shirt and put it on, not bothering to stop long enough to put on my bra. Image after image of him making me feel like a Club sheep, of him with Bubbles at the bar, of his emotionless face laughing at me for daring to fall in love with him, all of them raced through my mind and I was helpless to keep them at bay. They ripped through me like physical blows and that only made me angrier.

Spotting my shorts and panties, I put both back on as quickly as I could with shaking hands before turning to face him again. He was still on the blanket, his hair alone enough to tell the world that I'd just let him f.u.c.k me senseless. His face was clenched, his chest still covered in his T-shirt and leather cut, lifted with his harsh breathing. He looked more p.i.s.sed than I could ever remember him being, but I didn't care right then. I was p.i.s.sed off too.

"Telling me you love me means nothing, Jet. I gave up on hearing you say those three little words a long time ago," I shot at him, hurting so bad that it was all I could do to keep myself standing. "I have no expectations of the future with you because I don't think we will have one."

Liar.

I squashed that annoying little voice down hard before it could rear its ugly head. Maybe I was a liar, but it was easier to pretend like I wasn't. I still had my pride, d.a.m.n it. It was all that was left. Lord knew my heart was gone; it belonged to Jet. It always would.

"What would it take to convince you that what you're so afraid of won't happen again, Flick?" he asked in a voice so quiet I didn't know if I'd heard him right or not. It didn't make sense to me. He'd seemed angry, but his voice told me something else. He lifted his head and I saw his eyes. They were full of a torment that I didn't understand, not coming from him. If I'd been standing in front of a mirror, I would have definitely understood it, because it was the same torment I knew was in my own eyes. "How do I make you see that you are it for me? That no matter what happens, there will be no one else? How can I prove to you that as long as I breathe, you will always be the only one I will ever want?"

The pain in his voice stopped me short. I opened my mouth-to laugh at him, to yell at him, to cry... I wasn't even sure what I would have done, but nothing would escape past the lump that was now choking me.

Slowly, as if he had no energy left in his huge body, he got to his feet and crossed the short distance to me. One large hand reached out, his calloused fingers stroking over my cheek. His touch was so gentle, so tender, it stole the air from my chest. "Will I ever be able to prove that to you, Flick? Will you ever realize that I'm completely, unconditionally yours as much as you are mine?"

Again I tried to speak, but nothing came. My heart was pounding against my ribs, tears burned my those and throat, but my eyes remained oddly dry.

Jet let out a rough, humorless laugh. "I love you more than anything, Flick. Anything. All I want is for you to be happy. Do I make you happy? Will I ever be able to? Or did I destroy all of that when I was so stupid two years ago?"

Why couldn't I speak? I wanted to yell at him that he was the only person who could ever truly make me happy while at the same time rage at him that he was the only person who could ever crush me into nothingness. My mind was a mess and I couldn't even string a full sentence together. I was so confused, so lost. None of it made sense to me. The pain in his eyes, twisting his face, was nearly too much to witness, but I couldn't turn my eyes away.

He took my lack of response as a negative and his shoulders drooped in defeat. "If I can't make you happy, what will?" He grimaced, as if he already knew the answer. "Living with the rockers? Were you happy there?"

My chin started to tremble, but I still lacked the ability to speak, to cry.

"Okay, Flick. I get it." He shook his head and turned away from me. He picked up his jeans and stepped into them, his movements jerky, not like his usual smooth predator.

My heart was cracking, but this time I couldn't blame it on Jet. It was shattering because I could see him breaking before my eyes and I could do nothing to stop it. The inner struggle that was warring inside my brain wouldn't let me so much as move a finger. I wanted to hug him close and tell him I loved him, that I never stopped, while at the same time I needed to hold on to those words, keep them safely hidden from him to protect myself.

With his jeans now covering him, he turned to face me again. His eyes were wet, which was like a punch to the chest, knocking all the air out of my lungs. This man was not my big, bad alpha biker. This was a man who looked like he'd lost everything and didn't know what he was going to do next.

He stepped in front of me and lowered his head until his lips touched my forehead. I felt his lips quiver and wanted to touch him, to hold on to him and never let him go, but my arms were just as uncooperative as my voice. "Let's go."

I blinked then. "Wh-where?" Was that my voice? It sounded rough, almost strangled. As it moved through my throat, it felt like I was shredding the delicate tissue, bruising my voice box.

"It's time you were back where you're happy, love."

Jet pulled the car into the driveway at his house and shifted it into park, but he didn't move to get out. Instead he sat in the driver's seat, staring blankly out the windshield. I sat beside him, still unable to make my voice cooperate. Even if it would, though, I had no idea what I would say.

Would I beg him to be speaking the truth? Would I plead for him to really love me like he claimed?

Or would I laugh in his face and tell him to go to h.e.l.l?

Several long minutes pa.s.sed and he finally blew out a tired breath. "I'm going to go get the stuff you brought with you. I'll only be a few minutes. I don't want you to go in. It will only upset Raven...and I don't think I could handle that right now."

I didn't move so much as a muscle as he got out of the Challenger and quietly shut the door. I watched him walk into the house through the back door and then slowly counted down the seconds in my head, trying not to think about what was really happening.

He was sending me back to the Armstrongs, to Emmie and Mia and Jagger. He wanted me to be happy and he thought that being with them was what I wanted.

Was it what I wanted? Would I be happy there?

The chaos in my head made it impossible for me to answer.

Jet was back in no time at all, definitely too soon for me to figure out what I wanted. He tossed the small case I'd brought with me into the back seat and then put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. His big hands were clenched so tight on the steering wheel that they were white, and his jaw was clenched so hard I worried he was going to chip a tooth.

Neither of us spoke as he drove toward the airport. Me because I couldn't figure out how to make my vocal cords work, and him because...I didn't know. I couldn't take my eyes off of him as he drove so I knew when he lost the fight with his emotions and a few tears actually spilled from his eyes. I ached to touch him, to brush the tears away and tell him it was all going to be okay.

Tell him you love him. Tell him. Say it.

Say something, d.a.m.n it. Anything.

"J-Jet..." His name wheezed out of my constricted throat, but it was too soft and he didn't appear to have heard me. I tried again. "Jet."

His head turned toward me at the same time his hand moved to hit the turn signal. We'd arrived at the airport without me even really noticing. "You'll be home soon, Flick."

The first tear spilled from my eyes at the sight of his pain-ravaged face. It was too much and I couldn't seem to find the capacity to speak again. Jet pulled into the drop-off line at the airport and got out. I couldn't move, didn't dare try for fear I would shatter at his feet.

The pa.s.senger side door opened and he offered me his hand. I stared down at it for the longest time, not sure if I should take it or not. If I wanted to take it or not. "Time to go, love."

Shaking my head, I finally gave him my hand and he tugged me out. Once I was standing on the sidewalk, he reached back inside for my case and my purse that I'd put in the back seat before going to the bar earlier. He handed both over to me and pulled out his wallet. Taking out all the cash he had, Jet placed the bills into my hand and closed my fist around them.

"Look at me," he commanded. Slowly, as if in a dream, I lifted my head to meet his gaze. He sucked in a deep breath, as if he needed the courage to say what was about to come out of his mouth. "I love you, Felicity."

Felicity. Not Flick, but Felicity. How often had he called me by my real name? I was sure I could count the occasions on one hand. It sounded foreign coming from him, almost forbidden. In truth, I loved it.

His eyes darkened, as if he was just then realizing how much I'd needed him to call me Felicity. Stupidly, I was realizing it too.

Jet's throat worked as he swallowed hard and his eyes filled with tears once again. It killed me to see them, to know that my big, bad, alpha biker was hurting so bad. "I've always loved you, Felicity. I'm sorry I never told you in the past, when I had the chance to hear you repeat them back. I'm sorry I killed your love for me. Just know that I will always love you. No one else, baby. No one but you. I know that you probably don't believe that, but it's true."

"Jet..." I started, but my voice gave out and I stood there, floundering to tell him- What? What the h.e.l.l would I tell him?

He wrapped his strong arms around me, pulling me hard against him. I felt the tremble in his arms seconds before his lips pressed against my temple, heard his harshly indrawn breath, and then he was pulling away all too soon. "If you ever need me, I'm just a phone call away. Do you hear me? Anything."

I could only nod, because if nothing else I knew that Jet would always come if I needed him. He'd shown me that, repeatedly.

Jet turned and walked back to the Challenger. With one last look at me, he got in and drove away.

It was only as I watched the car's taillights fading in the distance through tear-filled eyes that I realized what I had wanted to say to him. Sucking in a deep breath, I turned toward the airport's entrance.

Chapter Seventeen.

Gracie "Uncle Jack wants you to stop by the garage on your way home, babe."

I wondered if the sound of Hawk's voice would ever not make my heart melt. Smiling to myself, I rearranged my briefcase, travel mug of coffee I'd just filled as I'd left the office, and my phone so I could unlock the door to the old Chevelle. "Did he say why?"

I wasn't opposed to stopping by and seeing what the old man wanted. I'd actually gotten to know and sort of like the cagey old biker in the last few weeks. He and Trigger had stayed with me and Hawk at the hospital day and night until the doctors had finally said that I was out of danger from the sepsis that had tried to shut down my entire body. I had to admit that having him there for me-for Hawk, who had been about to lose his mind-had softened my heart toward my maternal grandfather, which I hadn't thought was possible.

Don't get me wrong, I still hadn't completely forgiven him for abandoning my mother, but I had a lot more respect for Jack than I did for Charles Morgan-may his soul burn in the deepest parts of h.e.l.l. So while I wouldn't likely nominate Jack for grandfather of the year, I'd give him the time of day and stop by to see what he wanted.

"He didn't say, but it sounded like it was important." Hawk blew out a long sigh, making me wonder if he knew more than he was saying, but I let it go.

"Okay. I'll stop by and then head home." I tossed my stuff into the car and then climbed behind the wheel. I was exhausted, but I wasn't going to tell Hawk that. I'd only just gotten him to let me go back to school and work. I didn't want to give him any reason to think I wasn't ready to be doing all the things I needed to be doing. Seriously, as much as I loved that man, I was sure that I would end up shooting him with his own gun if he didn't stop babying me so much.

"Okay. Be careful," he ordered. "And, Gracie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

I closed my eyes and smiled. Those were three words I knew I would never get tired of hearing. "I love you, too."

It was a quick drive over to Jack Riley's garage and bike shop. The place looked deserted except for the two hogs in the parking lot. I recognized both motorcycles immediately. One was Jack's, but the other belonged to Trigger who was one of my grandfather's mechanics.

Taking my coffee with me, I headed for the office. When I opened the door it was to find both men standing around, waiting on me. Both of them? Whatever they were saying was cut off as soon as I walked into the room. Jack stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me as I came closer. In the past I wouldn't have hugged him back, but now I did without even really thinking about it. "Look at you. Pretty as always. Hawk taking good care of you, honey?" His brown eyes drifted over me from head to toe, as if looking for some sign that I wasn't better.

With a smirk I nodded. "You have nothing to worry about there, Jack." I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good to have him worry about me. After what had happened with my paternal grandfather, the way he hadn't had any regard for whether I'd lived or died as long as he'd gotten his d.a.m.n money, it was nice to have a family member actually concerned for my wellbeing.

I lifted my travel mug to my lips and took a small sip of the strong brewed coffee. "Hawk said you wanted to talk to me," I reminded him, hoping this would only take a few minutes so I could get home to Hawk.

Jack's jaw clenched and he turned toward Trigger. "No, me, honey."

My brows lifted when I glanced at Trigger. I didn't know much about the man, although I'd come to trust him and care about him, but I did know enough to realize that if Trigger wanted to speak to me it must have been important. Looking at him now, I realized that his face was tense and he looked pale. Was he mad?

Uh-oh. Was I in trouble?

"Okay then." I gave him my best smile, hoping to ease some of the man's tension. I liked him and didn't want him to be so serious around me.

Trigger thrust his hands into his front jeans pockets and took a half step toward me. "What I have to tell you isn't easy for me...Gracie." He said my name in such an odd way that my need to make him lighten up a little evaporated. I instinctively knew then and there that whatever was going to leave this man's mouth was going to change my life.